November 02, 2010
Our midget mayor likes to bang on until the cows come home about the poisons and dangers of one whiff of secondary tobacco smoke. Well, how about the gastric emissions in the dugouts of Yankee Stadium and Citi Field? When you”re at the ballpark you can”t see into the dugout’s Stygian darkness. But leave it to the TV camera to poke its nose into this Augean stable of hocked-up spittle. It’s a highly unsanitary state of affairs, Mr. Mayor, and you should do something about it. After all, there are Gestapo-like notices in New York’s underground railway threatening severe fines for spitting. What makes these millionaire ballplayers think they can get away with it at the park?
To speak of those dugouts, the TV occasionally gives you a view of the floor, and it’s enough to spoil your appetite. Who do you suppose gets the job of cleaning up the detritus? The same fellows who rake the infield during the stretch, poncing about, singing “YMCA”? I can tell you I”d rather be a Times Square wank-booth jizz-mopper than have to clean the Met dugout. I suppose it’s like a Dublin bar. The cleaners come in with fire hoses and flush the whole stinking place down.
How’s your stomach so far, ladies? Just one final note. What I find particularly disturbing is that the spitting carries on with unabated enthusiasm in indoor stadiums”like the Tampa Bay stately pleasure dome. Hey, fellas”you”re indoors! You”re parking that loogie on the carpet! C”mon, A-Rod, I”ll bet Cameron Diaz didn”t go for that at home.
You know, perhaps the intervention of women, subspecies “lady,” may have a positive influence on this revolting behavior. I”ve noticed that the networks now have women giving commentary, providing analysis, and doing interviews. For my money it’s a blatant, politically correct bid for diversity. But there could be a silver lining. Just once, I”d like Susan Waldman to ask one of the Yankees””Don”t any of you fellows ever carry a handkerchief?”
